Page 35 of The Caretaker
Ten minutes later, we were racing for the icy cold beach, barely making it onto the boardwalk before the moon would have its turn with us. Noon got the shots he wanted, though, and that giddy smile he directed at me was worth the frigid air shredding through my parka and thermals.
“Damn you and your high body temperature,” I said, teeth chattering. He hadn’t even zipped up his coat. He swooped in until only inches separated us, bringing his cozy warmth with him.
“Don’t be jealous,” Noon said around a laugh. “Summers are brutal on me.”
“I’d still t-trade with you r-right now,” I stammered.
“I’ll tell you what,” he started, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me to the parking area. “I’ll get the fire pit going when we get back, and we can sip beer—and wine—and make s’mores. I’ll even let you ruin a perfectly great meal by adding those God-awful chocolate-covered peppermint patties to it.” He shuddered at the thought.
“First of all,” I said, highly amused, the cold now forgotten. “S’mores are not a meal, and your obsession with them needs to be examined by a shrink. Second of all, peppermint is the greatest thing ever invented.”
“You put peppermint in your grandfather’s chamomile tea, screwing up his tradition and recipe.” He’d accidentally picked up the mug meant for me the other day, gagging when the taste of mint hit his tongue.
We shut ourselves inside the truck, and I grinned as I dug into my pocket to reveal a peppermint candy. Noon cranked the heat up, shaking his head at me in mock horror before driving off.
“There’s mint in the toothpaste and mouthwash we use every day.”
“And the floss,” he interjected. “Don’t forget the floss. Oh, and the air freshener plug-in thingy in the bathrooms.”
“Point is, you never complain about—”
“That’s different. I’m not ingesting those things. Peppermint should never reach the digestive system.”
“You’re such a strange giant.”
“I think strange comes with giant territory.”
“We should tattoo ‘strange’ on your arm.”
“I vote for my big burly chest.”
“Why not your big forehead?”
“But then where would the kisses go?” he gasped.
“I would say we could use our lips, but then you’d be forced to taste peppermint.”
“I guess I could make an exception,” he said in a put-out tone.
“I’d love it if you did,” I whispered, not recognizing my husky tone and shocking myself further with my brashness. I’d turned our playful banter into something that shouldn’t even be contemplated. Noon stopped at a red light and faced me, as if needing to read my expression for the truth. Even though I knew flushed cheeks greeted him, I still winked and responded with an ease I didn’t feel, “I win.”
“You play dirty,” he said, swallowing hard. The light turned green and he took off again, but the thickness in the air hadn’t thinned, not until several miles later when he started our banter up again.
We’d go back and forth about the silliest things sometimes. It was fun to see how one topic rolled into a new one, fun to watch the other try to keep up without missing a beat, fun to win every time. It was our game, it kept our minds busy, kept the heavy things still haunting us locked away for a while.
I’d never been a playful person, but everything about me was different with Noon. Everything about me was better. And the things that were the same were better too, because I was beginning to accept them instead of trying to change them. I was fine the way I was.
Noon suggested a movie night after we were done talking and drinking over s’mores by the fire pit. I’d thought he’d want to watch one of the action adventures he loved so much, but when I grabbed the remote from atop the media console and joined him on the couch, he whispered a new request.
“Do you have any videos of Gavin?”
“Tons,” I admitted with hesitancy. I’d done a lot of emotional unloading over the last two weeks—more if we were counting from the moment he showed up in my life—and Noon had held me together through it all.
Whenever I’d insist that he must be tired of hearing me talk about Gavin, he’d tell me that I needed to talk about him more. I’d make dinner, or try to, before surrendering to the fact that I couldn’t even toast bread. We’d end up ordering pizza and eating on the living room floor as we went through Gavin’s baby books.
“How is it that I miss him, when I didn’t even know him?”he’d asked me one of those nights. I’d broken down into the crook of his neck as he hugged me so tight that my ribs ached for a few days afterward.
“For as long as I live, there’s nothing that anyone could ever say to me that will mean more to me than that,”I’d said once I’d come up for air. He’d just smiled at me before kissing my forehead.
